


The Normal People Life

by brightbulbs



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Random Fluff, Rating subject to change, npp!universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-02-17 16:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2316875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightbulbs/pseuds/brightbulbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey's day to day life. </p>
<p>(A series of shorts in the "Normal People Problems" universe. You don't have to read NPP to enjoy these, but it does help for contextual information.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One Who Hogs the Blankets

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://lesjouetsdudestin.tumblr.com/post/97675253210/countess7-theegyptgame-ok-but-ask-yourself), I decided to write a series of short fics in the NPP!Universe that I've created. Hopefully people who enjoyed NPP, will like these. I will update irregularly, but this will be ongoing. There's no particular *point* other than fluffy goodness.

Ian can’t sleep.

He was used to it, not being able to sleep – sometimes he just had all these ideas, sometimes he just couldn’t get his brain to be quiet, sometimes he was bored, sometimes his body just didn’t feel tired, sometimes he felt like getting up and preparing the most delicious and extravagant breakfast for his family at three in the morning.

**_This was not the case_**. He actually feels kind of tired. He had a long day the night before.

It’s the middle of December, and his naked ass is bare and exposed. He’s fucking cold. Freezing. Why? Well, somehow, the five layers of blankets once protecting his body from the elements seem to have rolled into a massive ball on the edge of the bed – perhaps they’re plotting against him.

But why? Surely he did not deserve such scorn from the layers of cotton, wool, and fleece? _Come back to me_ , Ian’s hands say as his body seeks out that warmth on instinct. His arms slip underneath the ball of blankets. The heat immediately welcoming him in – come closer, Ian.   _Ah yes, this feels good_. His arms latch onto a body hidden in the very center of the pile of blankets, and Ian pulls his whole body toward it.  Oh god, yes. He had found it, the hearth of the blanket palace. The heat radiating off the skin beneath his fingertips sink into his bones and he groans with relief. His feet brush against an exposed calf and…

The body yelps at the contact, Ian’s freezing toes jolting him awake, and Ian takes an elbow to the chest. This is what happens when you lay too close to the fire – you get burned.

“What the fuck Mickey?” The hit to his solar plexus leaves him gasping. Mickey squirms underneath the blankets, pulling them closer around him and curling further into a ball.

“mmmfkn mmld!” Mickey grunts out. Ian tries to reestablish his previous position by looping his arms back around Mickey’s middle, but Mickey jerks away. “I said it’s fucking cold!”

“Well, **_I’m_** fucking cold, Mick!” Ian snaps. “Can I at least fucking get under there, so my dick doesn’t shrivel up? You wouldn’t like that would you?”

“Not my fault you’re an ice cube!”

“Yeah, it kinda fuckin’ is since you’ve confiscated all the blankets, asshole!”

“I don’t have all the – **_oh_**.” Mickey sits up to take in his surroundings, only to find his very bare and blanket-less fiancé glaring at him. He sighs. _Oh well, better let him in or he’ll sic “the chin” on me_. With a huff, he lifts the blankets. “Alright. Get in here, man.”

The corners of Ian’s mouth perk up and he eagerly joins Mickey in the blanket fortress, wrapping his cold body around Mickey’s warm one. He moans happily into Mickey’s shoulder, and squeezes his arms around Mickey’s middle.

“You feel so good. So warm in my arms.” Ian sighs.

“Yeah, yeah. Just keep your feet away from me.”


	2. The One Who Gives a Decent Haircut

“Sit still”

Mickey fidgets on the edge of the tub, as the razor buzzes in Ian’s hand. His own hands brush through his wet hair nervously. Feeling Ian’s fingers massage the shampoo and conditioner into his scalp had relaxed him, but once Ian washed it all out with the shower head, it was time to get down to business.

“You sure you can do this…”

Mickey had been pouting in the mirror the past few weeks, messing around with his hair. Ian watched, but didn’t saying anything. He never realized how obsessed Mickey was with his appearance until they started living together. Maybe Mickey was trying to impress him? Ian tried giving him affirmations that he looked fine, but it didn’t stop Mickey from huffing and sighing and fussing with his hair every single morning. Okay, maybe he just really fucking hated his hair. Ian’s suspicions were confirmed when he had woken up to Mickey chucking his pomade against the wall and storming out of the bathroom.

“I’m gonna try!” Ian said confidently, buzzing razor in one hand while the other brushed through the sides of Mickey’s hair. After Mickey’s mini tantrum, he had watched about a dozen hair tutorials online. He initially offered to bring Mickey to the barber, but Mickey had refused, making up every excuse he could think of so he wouldn’t have to be seen in public with one of those ridiculous smocks on. Plus, it was a known fact that Mickey didn’t like anyone’s hands and fingers near his face unless they were Ian’s. So Ian’s lover was picky, whatever, they’ll make it work.

“Just don’t make me look like one of those boyband douchebags.”   

“Aww, damn.” Ian said in mock disappointment. “I was planning on giving you a JC Chasez cut circa ‘97”

Mickey glared up at him through wet bangs. “Don’t even joke.”

“Relax” Ian grinned, bringing the razor to the side of his scalp to trim off the hair there. Mickey puffed up his cheeks with air, looking like a squirrel preparing for winter. He closed his eyes and let the air out slowly as he felt bits of hair hit his bare feet. After a while, the buzzing stopped and Ian put the razor on top of the counter so he could grab the scissors. Each snip had Mickey on edge, but he tried to maintain his cool.

“Alright, I don’t think I fucked it up too badly.” Ian used a towel to brush out the remaining bits of hair that stuck to Mickey’s skin, before massaging the towel over Mickey’s entire scalp and bending down to kiss the top of his head. Helping Mickey up, he instructed him to look in the mirror. The sides of his head were shaved fairly evenly, and the top was kept long enough to tug on.

“This is actually…” Mickey felt the sides of his hair. “Not so bad.”

“You like it?”

“I do” Mickey turned to Ian standing behind him, and kissed him.


	3. The One Who Pours the Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that it's taken me a while to update this. 
> 
> I lost a lot of motivation to write this or to write or do anything, because of a threat I received on this fanwork. It was extremely hurtful and harmful, and while I have reported it, they couldn't do much about it beyond deleting the comment. Unfortunately, this means that I cannot allow anonymous commenting on my fanworks any more. Just know that if any threats are made against me in the future, especially in regards to exposing my offline identity and threatening my livelihood, I will not tolerate it. Please know that this is illegal, and goes against AO3's terms of service. Also know that, should threats like this be made against me off-anon, I will report it and your ability to use this website will be compromised. 
> 
> To read more about the situation, I've publicly addressed it with the fandom [here.](http://lesjouetsdudestin.tumblr.com/post/98211305595/okay-this-is-really-serious-and-an-actual)
> 
> Again, I appreciate anyone who has publicly condemned this. That makes me feel a lot safer in this fandom, but I still don't feel completely safe here and among a number of people. I wouldn't wish this treatment on anyone, and I hope the fandom does so much better than this.

The scent of bacon and eggs waft into the bedroom and Mickey inhales deeply, turning over in bed with a moan and pushing himself up on his palms. With his hair a mess and a mildly confused look on his face, he looks like a baby bird waiting for its mother to return to the nest. However, after a wide yawn and a stretch, the early morning blurriness fades away and he gets on his feet intent on following the smell of breakfast all the way to the kitchen.

Early mornings are usually quiet, but Mickey picks up on lively chatter as he gets closer and closer to his destination. He wonders for a moment if Ian is cheering the eggs on again in his endeavor to keep their shape and avoid a runny yolk, until he hears a very familiar voice.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Mickey groans.

“Don’t be mean to my favorite in-law, Mick,” Ian warns, pointing his spatula at him.

Mickey scratches his belly and grabs the orange juice from his sister’s hand to chug it down, fully ignoring Ian’s warning. Mandy shoots him an annoyed look.

“Good morning to you too, dick breath,” Mandy says, stealing her cup back from Mickey’s hands. Mickey puts his hands up defensively, and takes a seat opposite her at the kitchen table. “Anyways, Ian and I are going out shopping later.”

“Mandy’s car is in the shop, your shop actually, and I offered to take her out today.” Ian doesn’t take his eyes off the griddle for one moment, flipping the bacon over as he provides an explanation. Satisfied with the bacon, he finally turns to Mickey. “You’re more than welcome to come with us.”

“ ** _No, thank you_**.”

Mickey says it too quickly; violent flashbacks to Black Friday with Mandy fucking Milkovich all but consume him. Ian just shrugs, as if to say “your loss,” but Mickey knows better.

Satisfied with the eggs and bacon, Ian plates the food with a side of toast and a pat of butter on each slice. He places one plate in front of Mandy and another in front of Mickey, kissing the top of Mickey’s head before grabbing his own plate and settling down at the head of the table right between the two siblings.

“Want some more coffee, Ian?”

Mandy picks up the coffee pot sitting in the center of the table. She readies to pour the coffee into Ian’s mug, hovering just above it before Mickey intercepts, taking the coffee pot from her hand rather roughly.

“ ** _Excuse you_** , that’s my job.”

Mickey fills up Ian’s mug effortlessly while fixing a smug look on his sister, successfully thwarting her attempts to usurp his position of coffee-pourer. Mandy pulls the toast on her plate apart in her hands and dips them into the yolk of Mickey’s sunny side up eggs, but Mickey’s proud grin doesn’t falter. She kicks him under the table for good measure, as Ian sips his coffee contently.


	4. The One Who Likes His Music Loud

“Thanks for picking me up.”

Ian slides into the passenger seat and buckles himself in, as Mickey pulls away from the curb outside of the testing center.  

“No problem. How’d your certification exam go?” Mickey asks without peeling his eyes off the road in front of him.

“It was fine. Hey, mind if I turn on the radio?” Ian responds quickly, unwilling to discuss it much further and looking for a distraction.  His hands are already messing with the buttons, before Mickey can provide an answer.

“Sure, what–”

Mickey is cut off by the sound of some late 90’s tune coming through the speakers.

“Oh man, I fucking love this song,” Ian says. He instantly turns up the volume, and begins to hum. Mickey sighs grumpily. All hope for a quiet ride home is lost.  He glances at Ian as he begins to sing the lyrics. Oh well, Ian’s been working himself up about this exam for a while, and now that it’s over, Mickey figures his man needs to unwind. It’s a test of Mickey’s limits, because as the chorus comes in, Ian turns up the volume even louder.

“Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold!” Ian’s shouting more than he’s singing, and Mickey can feel his ears throb. “And it’s always summer, they’ll never get cold! Hey Mick!”  

“What?” Mickey shouts over the music.

“Hey, Mick!”

“What do you want? Spit it out!”

“Wait, what?” Ian can see Mickey’s lips move, but can’t hear over the booming speakers.

“Damn it. Fucking turn that shit… ** _down_**.” and Mickey’s hand is already on the volume. “Now, what the fuck do you want?”

“Mick–”

“What!”

Ian leans back in his seat and takes a good long look at his fiancé. He smiles in a sort of dorky sentimental way, which has become Mickey’s downfall. “After we tie the knot, let’s go road tripping, okay?”

“Uh…” Mickey’s eyebrows knit together, and he almost forgets to stop at the red light. He hadn’t really thought of what comes right after marriage. It’s not like he thought the marriage thing would ever be a thing in the first place.

“C’mon, let’s just do it,” Ian says. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and that song was… it was like a sign, you know?”

“You think everything is a sign,” Mickey says, as he turns the corner.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not a sign, though.” They’re a couple blocks away from home, and Ian is scanning Mickey’s face thoughtfully with his green eyes. They say, ‘ _we’re going to do this thing and you’ll love every minute of it, Mickey_.’

“Fine,” Mickey groans, and Ian beams in satisfaction. “I’m not driving the entire time though and–”

“I can drive too,” Ian interrupts.

“… ** _and_** , keep your damn hands off the stereo.”

“What, that’s the best part of the road trip,” Ian whines, “I already have a road trip playlist in the works”

“Yeah, alright, just don’t make my ears bleed.”


	5. The One Who Picks Up the Pizza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for long time, no update. Hopefully this is okay. Merry-almost-Christmas, and Happy Hanukkah.

“Hey, I’m pretty hungry.” Mickey rubs Ian’s arm gently. His stomach grumbled and growled, but the body currently laying on top of his legs did not stir, a simple “Mmm…,” the only response.

“It’s your turn to cook,” Mickey says, nudging his shoulder.

“I’m not moving,” Ian replies, muffled by the couch cushions he’s resting on. As soon as he got home from work, he crashed. Specifically, he crashed on top of Mickey who had been sitting on the couch watching his shows.

Mickey huffs with frustration, his stomach growling again. “C’mon, man.”

“Why don’t you just go get a pizza?”

“I ain’t payin’ for no pizza,” Mickey pouts, stroking Ian’s hair. Ian lifts his head from the couch cushion, looking Mickey right in the eye.

“Just take my wallet with you, you big baby. I’ll pay for it.”

Mickey shimmies out from under Ian and climbs over the back of the couch. He pockets Ian’s wallet, and heads for the door.

“Just don’t get any of that fast food shit,” Ian adds before Mickey puts his hand on the doorknob. “Only real pizza, Mick.”

“Who the fuck do you think I am?”

Mickey fishes out his keys from his pocket, and slams the door on his way out, a little offended.

.

“Mmm. This is really fucking good, Mick,” Ian says biting into his pizza. The cheese pulls away from the crust in strings that stick to Ian’s chin. “Thanks for picking it up.”

“Oh,” Mickey says between bites. He motions to his back pocket, unwilling to let his pizza go. “I got your wallet”

“Thanks” Ian puts his pizza down to pull it out of Mickey’s jeans. “Did you leave a tip?”

“Fuck no.”

“Mickey!”

“It’s for fucking pick up! I ain’t giving them any extra shit,” Mickey says, waving his slice of pizza around in exasperation.

“Still it’s nice if you – ”

 “Look, the whole idea of _pick-up_ is that you don’t have to pay them for delivery”

“Stingy”

“Whatever”

.

Soon it’s Ian and Mickey verus one slice of pizza, both of them gunning for it. For a minute they stare at the slice, waiting for the other to take it. Their hands hover hesitantly.

“Ugh, just take it,” Mickey relents.

“No. No, let’s…” Ian thinks for a moment. “Let’s do this lady and the tramp style.”

“You really wanna try that with pizza?” Mickey raises an eyebrow, and Ian nods, motioning for Mickey to take a bite from one side of the slice. As Mickey bites into it, Ian tackles the other side. They meet in the middle, their lips barely touching, eyes locked on one another. Ian cracks, pizza crumbs falling from his mouth. He tries to gulp down the chewed up pieces before they fall out too.  

“This is so fucking cheesy, dude, what the fuck” Mickey chuckles, wiping tomato sauce off his lips with the back of his hand. “Here, let me just…”

Mickey pulls apart what’s left, and hands Ian a half of it.


	6. The One Who Complains About the Crumbs

Ian hears the shower head turn off, and the sound of Mickey's feet padding around in the bathroom. Mickey eventually comes out with a towel hanging loosely around his waist. His hands busy themselves towel-drying his hair when Ian sits up on his elbows watching him.

“What,” Mickey asks, his towel slipping down slightly, revealing a faint happy trail.

“C’mere,” Ian says before biting his bottom lip softly.  

Mickey grins, dropping his towel as he makes his way closer to the bed. Reaching his destination, he lays right on top of Ian who pulls him in close, hands resting low on Mickey’s back. Mickey’s smile doesn’t fade as he presses cool kisses to Ian’s neck and chest before meeting up with Ian’s warm lips. He moans at the contact, reaching his hand to cup Ian’s face as Ian’s hands work to rub some more warmth into Mickey’s body.

“Thanks again for picking up pizza today,” Ian says softly in between kisses. Mickey responds with a tired “hmn,” then drops his head to rest it on Ian’s chest, rubbing his fingertips in circles over Ian’s shoulder as if stuck in thought. A moment of silence passes between them, when Ian’s hands dip lower...

“Wanna let me ride you,” Mickey asks suddenly, his eyes meeting Ian’s.

“Is that even a question?”

Mickey sits up quickly, bracing Ian’s sides with his knees. He leans down to kiss Ian again, holding his head in his hands gently. He rocks his hips down into Ian’s, feeling himself harden as friction builds. Ian’s hands grip Mickey’s hips willing him to come closer.

“Oh,” Ian says as pleasure begins to build, but something rubs uncomfortably against his back. It feels like gravel burying into his smooth skin, but he tries to ignore it. He tries to focus in on Mickey’s skin on his skin, but he’s distracted.  

“Umm” Mickey slows his movements, looking down and noticing Ian’s barely hard.

“Sorry, let me just…”

Ian motions for Mickey to move beside him, as he twists his body to check his back and the sheets they’re currently laying on. His hands brush beige specks off his back, and Mickey reaches over to brush some more off the sheets.  

“What the heck is this?”

“Looks like pizza crumbs.”

“Pizza crumbs,” Ian confirms, flicking a few off his pillow. “Amazing. I’m being cock-blocked by pizza crumbs.”

“Alright, can we get this show back on the road.”

“No, hold on,” Ian halts Mickey from climbing back into his lap. “You were sitting here when we ate, Mick”

“Yeah, so…”

“Yeah, so you never cleaned up.”

“And…”

“And maybe you should try not making a huge ass mess.” Ian shook his head. “We need to try eating at the table for once.”

“Aww, c’mon man,” Mickey says with a whine.

“Don’t c’mon me, Mickey. Do you wanna be cock-blocked by crumbs again?”

“Whatever, Ian. Are you gonna let me ride that dick or what?”

“Alright, alright,” Ian says pulling Mickey's body close. “C’mere.”

 


	7. The One Who is Very Ticklish

“C’mere you!”

Ian sneaks his hands around Mickey’s sides, just below the ribs, to pull Mickey’s smaller body underneath his own. Mickey throws his head back into the pillows, and jerks his chest upward on instinct.

“What? You ticklish?” Ian scans Mickey’s face, as his fingers experiment, dancing across Mickey’s soft skin.

“S-stop!” Mickey grins and scrunches his nose, his head rearing back some more. His own hands grip Ian’s arms, his fingers tightening around the muscle compulsively. “N-no! I’m not, lemme – ”

“Huh?” Ian’s thumbs brush over Mickey’s ribs, light like a feather, and Mickey’s body jerks again. The corner of Ian’s lip perks up in a mischievous half smile. “Oh, _I think you are_.”

“Just… get to business, will ya?”

Mickey pushes Ian’s shoulders down, and Ian happily obliges. He hooks his arms around Mickey’s calves, lifting them up to place them on his shoulders. Ian pauses, closing his eyes and burying his nose into Mickey’s inner thigh, and Mickey’s toes flex as he does. Ian presses a couple gentle kisses into his thigh, before nipping gently.    

Mickey’s mouth hangs open in an “Ah” but no sound comes out. His hands curls into Ian’s hair, and his knees tremble. For some reason, he’s extra sensitive tonight. Ian has mercy on him, ceasing his tickling to capture Mickey’s lips with his own, bending Mickey in half as he does so.

.

“Hey, it’s time to get up,” Ian whispers into Mickey’s ear come morning. His warm hands rub over Mickey’s sensitive ribs, and his whispers have Mickey’s ears twitching like a rabbit. Mickey curls himself into the blankets, groaning pathetically as he does so.

“ ** _Hey_** ,” Ian says more emphatically, slipping a hand past the waistband of Mickey’s boxers and drumming his fingers across his lower belly. “The sooner you wake, the sooner we can go to that diner you like.”

“Mmm.” Mickey considers it for a moment, then swats at the invasive hand and curls up further, taking every blanket with him as he begins to resemble a human burrito. He yawns deeply, emitting a muffled “ ** _No_**.”

“It’s 9 AM, and if we wanna make the breakfast special in time we gotta – ”

Another muffled “no” cuts him off.

Ian sighs as he lifts himself off the mattress, left naked after Mickey absconded with their shared covers. He rounds the corner of the bed, standing beside the mound of blankets encasing his petit fiancé. He rests his hands at his sides, contemplating what he should do.

“Alright, get up!” Ian slaps Mickey’s ass, and hoists his man up off the bed and over his shoulders, blankets and all. Mickey tries to grip onto the headboard, but his fingers narrowly miss, only managing to take his pillow with him.

“Let me sleep, you ass!” Mickey pushes off of Ian’s back and kicks his legs, sending sheets tumbling to the floor. “It’s a fucking Saturday!”

Ian dumps him onto the couch, and Mickey stops squirming.

“Hey, I love you, y'know?” 

“Shut up, tickle monster.”


End file.
